The Worth of One Life
by DuckofIndeed
Summary: Captain Olimar has now been stranded on a hostile, alien planet for just under a week, and he has already been faced with many strange and baffling things, but the question he has pondered over most of all is why the Pikmin are so willing to risk their lives for one, solitary Hocotatian. Until one night, he finds the answer. Set during Pikmin 1.


While I was playing Pikmin 3, I was stricken with the urge to write a short story for the series, and here is what I came up with. It really just explores something that we've surely all done, despite our best intentions, with a deeper look at Olimar's own thoughts.

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><p><strong>The Worth of One Life<strong>

Ever since that day had begun, Captain Olimar had been feeling strangely uneasy. And it wasn't the usual kind of unease brought about from being stranded on an unknown planet filled with hostile wildlife, a state he was well acquainted with. Oddly enough, the fact that he only had 24 days left of breathable air didn't disconcert him as much as it undeniably had back when he still had 30, but he had less need to worry now, for he had more hope, thus the name of the forest he currently visited each day as he worked on gathering up the scattered pieces of his damaged ship. While he had yet to comprehend why the little creatures did it, the Pikmin had proven themselves to be an invaluable ally and loyal to the bone, root, whatever they had, even when he was surely as foreign to them as they were to him.

Every night, he thought over the events of the day and recorded his most notable experiences in his journal so he had something to share with those back home, if, when, he ever saw them again, and to help him to learn how he could do better the next day. Things were going according to plan, with just a few hiccups here and there, and he was starting to feel more and more confident that he would escape this place and live to see his wife and kids again.

And yet, all these thoughts of hope and confidence weren't pushing away the conviction that something was very wrong even as he sat safe and sound in the Dolphin high above the planet's surface. He had been forced to extend his search even further from the ship today than ever before, but coupled with a greater ability to command the Pikmin under his care, he had predicted few foreseeable issues. Today, he had brought back (well, the Pikmin had, to be more accurate) several pieces of his ship, including the vital radiation canopy, and he had returned just before nightfall to dismiss the Pikmin to their respective onions before retreating to the safety of his own ship. And the Pikmin had sustained minimal casualties, even if he didn't think he'd ever grow used to the squeal they made whenever one fell prey to the savage bulborbs. It made him shudder just thinking about it.

But tonight, he couldn't rest, nor could he eat, and he left the can of mashed pikpik carrots on the control panel hardly touched as he replayed every hour, then every minute, of the day over in his head. He was missing something. He had set out with a round 100 Pikmin (he always was the type to prefer things neat and tidy), lost three to a band of shearwigs that had swooped down out of nowhere and five to a dwarf bulborb that had taken the opportunity to strike when the Pikmin were busy carrying the nova blaster, and he had eventually returned with…

His stomach sank like a stone in a pond, and he stared out the viewport at the crescent of darkness where was hidden the forest he had visited that day, as if he could see with his own eyes what he saw with his mind even at such a great distance.

He had forgotten some. After he had worked so hard to reduce the number that perished to savage creatures or fire or water, what did he do but leave them behind. And he thought he knew where. There was a troop of 20 or 30 of them he had commanded to wait for him in the arch of an oak root, and he swore he would come back for them later when he had completed his current task. But, he had forgotten.

And he knew how dangerous that planet was. He knew it almost as well as the Pikmin did, and he was not the one called forth to do battle with it. That's what the onions were for, to keep them safe, and even then, they lifted off with him every night to hover high above the planet's atmosphere and anything that might mean them harm.

They didn't stand a chance down there at night.

Captain Olimar donned his helmet, and he piloted the Dolphin back down to the planet many miles below. Perhaps if he was quick, he could get back to them on time, but the onions did not follow, and he set down in the dark of night more alone on this strange, uncharted world than ever he had before. But, all that mattered was finding them and bringing them to safety. The how could wait for when it came down to it.

The tiny Hocotatian started to run, the only light coming from the small beacon on his helmet and stars that were almost too far to matter. Things crunched and rustled in the underbrush and strange hoots and cries emanated from the branches high above that he had never heard during the daylight hours and that sent chills through his very being. He had never felt welcome in this place even during the relative safety of day, but the darkness was a different matter entirely, and he thought he lost his way more than once, but it was impossible to tell when the landscape seemed to have transformed with the setting of the sun.

And then he saw it, up ahead, the thick, arching root of an impossibly large oak tree, and he made for it as best as he could with his vision hindered as it was thanks to his helmet fogging up from ragged breathing that was hot against the cold glass. But, even as he drew closer, he saw no sign of the Pikmin he had made wait for him, for safety's sake, of all things, and he slowed to a stop beneath the arch and looked all about, but they were gone, the only movement blades of tall grass swaying in the breeze that cast shadows like the maws of things that surely had sharp teeth, set beneath trees like enormous, silent monoliths. Or tombstones in an immense cemetery.

Maybe they got away, he thought. Maybe…

His eyes locked onto a small shape in the dirt, something he could just make out to be red, if his mind wasn't playing tricks on him, and he trudged forward with numb steps to kneel before it, and he laid a hand on the Pikmin lying motionless in front of him. It wasn't moving, and he wasn't well practiced in detecting vital signs in organisms that were as much plant as animal.

He froze at a sniffling, and when he looked up, his eyes widened at the red bulborb looming over him, and it growled at the confirmation that he was indeed alive and edible and not just a small and strangely shaped rock. It snapped at him, and instinct made him stumble back, but it didn't make to follow, but sniffed more, its flaring nostrils leading its attention down to the Pikmin at its feet.

Olimar's mind spun, and his hand dropped with a mind of its own to pick up a pebble and launch it at the beast's head, who shook and blinked at the unexpected attack. The eyestalks swiveled back in his direction, considering this creature that may've been just a bit more of a nuisance than it had anticipated. It stepped towards him on spindly legs he had always marveled at being able to support such weight, but he wasn't marveling now, and he stooped to lift a twig up with both hands.

He attempted to bat at it with his makeshift weapon, but being twice his height, it made such an effort difficult, and he dropped it as the creature lunged for him, but he was too slow, and his foot became caught in its mouth as it picked him up off the ground. He struggled and squirmed as he hung upside down and yelled all manner of threats he knew would be meaningless to a creature that didn't understand his language, and when this failed to dissuade it, he blew his whistle, this proving to be the only thing that had any effect as it dropped him in response to the shrill sound.

He landed on his helmet and rolled clumsily into a sitting position, and he would've surely been stunned at his narrow escape had his ordeal been over, but the bulborb came for him again, and he rolled aside. Standing proved to be a more difficult affair than it had been mere moments before, however, as a sharp pain shot through an ankle that could've been sprained, if he was being optimistic, and broken, if he was not.

The Hocotatian limped in any direction he could think that would take him away from the monster behind him, but he could hear its breath and see its shadow overtake him as it cleared the gap between them with a speed that now greatly surpassed his, and he threw himself onto an acorn cap lying on the ground and rolled onto his back just in time to thrust the object into the creature's mouth.

He stared as the bulborb struggled to free its maw of the thing impeding it, and it was only due to an alarming crack as its integrity was weakened that he leapt up and hobbled over to the Pikmin lying a short distance away. He stopped only to lift it into his arms, and then he was off as the acorn cap snapped completely and the stomping of two thin, but angry, legs made to pursue him.

His pained sprint was a curious dance, to be sure, but he held the Pikmin tight and close as he crashed through tall grass and leaves and jerked himself free of a stray strand of spider silk he had stumbled into in his blind escape.

He ran far longer than he needed to, for it didn't occur to him until some time later that the stomping and the heaving breath of the creature that he had been fleeing from had ended a good ten minutes ago, and with no good reason to prolong his exertion for any longer, he collapsed to his knees in a small clearing amidst the tall grass, and he set the Pikmin down as he continued to gasp for breath.

As his breathing gradually normalized, and he felt the hammering of his heart lessen, Captain Olimar arranged his injured foot in a way more conducive to healing, for now that the initial panic had worn off, he was certain it had merely been twisted in the struggle and would heal just fine if he put no more weight on it than necessary, and he was just grateful that was all he had sustained, for it was only now that he had become aware of the fact that if his suit had been punctured, he would have had far more to worry about than a sore ankle.

But, amidst all that noise and excitement, the Pikmin had not once stirred, and it lay before him just as still as when he had first found it, and any gratitude he had felt just now at being alive quieted as he gazed down at its motionless form, and he believed a few tears slipped down his face in the time that followed, though probably far more if he was being honest, had there been anyone to be honest to.

Olimar likely dozed off, even if he remained upright throughout the whole thing, and he dreamed of hazy, but terrifying, things, and he started awake an untold amount of time later when even the night insects had gone to sleep, and he had to blink several times until he could confirm that what he saw before him was at all accurate.

The Pikmin stared back at him, mirroring his own stance exactly, and the leaf on its head swayed in a manner far more comforting than that of the grass he had seen earlier. He gave it a knowing nod, and they remained in that spot for the rest of the night until a rising sun's light lifted the morning mist that seemed to have been preparing for this moment the whole night through. They had a new day ahead of them. He just hoped he could spend it wisely.

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><p>I'm ashamed to admit it, but I left some of my Pikmin behind today. Yesterday, really, as this entry came late, but that's not really important right now. What <em>is<em> important is that I am their leader, and I should be better than that. I'm afraid that I take them for granted despite my earlier gratitude that these creatures, that owe me nothing, have joined my cause and chosen to struggle and toil for me. They fight for me. And they die for me. And yet I'm somehow able to forget about them and leave them behind. Am I so important that my life is worth dozens of theirs? I want to survive, I want to return to my family more than anything, but does that justify putting innocent lives in danger like this?

But, I can't think like that. It'll take all that I have, and all that the Pikmin have, to get me off this planet in one piece, and I can't afford to waste any of my time doubting myself.

Well, it turned out, only one Pikmin survived, and my ankle still throbs a great deal, but it was well worth risking my life for just the one I saved, even if I wish I could've saved them all.

But, I wonder, if it brought me so much satisfaction to save the life of just that one Pikmin, is it possible the Pikmin feel the same in regards to myself?

That would explain a lot.

-Captain Olimar

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><p>This story actually started out as a mere feeling rather than a real idea, and I'm rather proud of how it turned out when my original idea for it was so vague. Plus, it was quite refreshing writing for a different series for once. And I just always wondered how the characters must feel about tossing these small creatures at dangerous things with sharp teeth. I mean, this is a series where we actually cause dozens, sometimes hundreds, of innocent creatures to be <em>killed<em> for the achievement of our own goals (Pikmin 2 seemed especially inhumane…). Surely Olimar, not to mention the other characters of the series, must feel some unease after sending countless Pikmin to their deaths. Oh, the time I led all of my red Pikmin through a pond… It was during my first playthrough, of course, but still.

Anyway, please review and tell me your thoughts.


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